Winter Highway

The future is a truck
barrelling down a snowy road.
We follow its vague shape
through the speeding cloud,
never gaining, unable to pass.
One way to see clearer
is to pull over, stop chasing,
talk to the ravens, the pines.

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About Ray Sharp

Father, poet, triathlete, local public health planner
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6 Responses to Winter Highway

  1. Iris Orpi says:

    Wise and golden, without spoonfeeding the reader with the wisdom and the gold. This is the kind of poem you have to stop at the end and pause to exhale and tell yourself, “Wow. I get it. And wow. Yeah.”

    That’s what I did. 🙂

  2. I needed this, like a message from the Universe. I will pause…

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